


a little bit scandalous

by lotts (LottieAnna)



Series: dolled up [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Coming In Pants, Dom/sub Undertones, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Lace Panties, Lingerie, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Podfic Available, Snapchat flirting, moral of the story is hockey boys in lingerie would make an amazing calendar, mostly fluffy though, okay maybe more plot than originally intended but that's fine right?, there's a tiny bit of plot, these boys are all so soft and beautiful!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 17:43:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11041104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LottieAnna/pseuds/lotts
Summary: Dylan doesn’t know whose idea it was to put hockey players in lingerie, but he kind of wants to send them a thank-you card.





	a little bit scandalous

**Author's Note:**

> FIRST: If you found this through Google, know someone mentioned in this story, or are mentioned in this story yourself, please, please stop reading! This is a work of fanfiction, and pretty much everything in here is made up. 
> 
> This story would not exist without [these tumblr posts,](http://chillwhiskey.tumblr.com/tagged/nhl-in-lingerie) and specifically [this ask.](http://chillwhiskey.tumblr.com/post/160997550029/yall-like-please-have-some-mercy-on-me) So credit to chillwhiskey for her amazing posts, I'd recommend checking them out if you like hockey boys in lingerie. Which, if you've clicked on this story, you probably do. 
> 
> Also thanks to ftc for her amazing beta work, and for choosing the summary, and for listening to me ramble about it as it was being written, and for helping me tag it. Also thanks to tots, who read it and assured me it was worth putting up here.
> 
> Yeah this is... self-indulgent PWP about Connor McDavid in blue lace panties and Dylan Strome's difficulty handling it. Title from Ariana Grande's "Into You." I hope you enjoy!

It starts with a snap. 

Specifically, a video snap from Connor, and thankfully, it’s set to loop indefinitely, because Dylan doesn’t even know how to  _ start  _ processing it. 

At first it’s just Connor’s face, and Dylan can tell that he’s wearing a little bit of makeup. They put him in makeup for shoots sometimes, and Connor goes kind of wild with selfies when they do. Dylan doesn’t know if Connor actually thinks he looks better with makeup, or if it’s a subconscious thing. This time around they have Connor in– lipstick? Mascara, maybe? His eyelashes look long, and his cheeks are rosy, and he looks… 

Pretty. 

Pretty is the only word that comes into Dylan’s head, and he blushes. 

Then, the camera shifts, and Connor’s face is gone, replaced by an image of him from behind– a mirror, Dylan realizes, seeing Connor’s reflection holding up a phone, still set to the front-facing camera– and all he’s wearing is pale blue lace panties.

Dylan nearly drops his phone. 

He lets the loop run, trying to take in the whole image, wanting nothing more than to be there to see it in person; he honestly has no idea why Connor is wearing panties, but his mind isn’t really focused on finding an explanation. 

The only reason Dylan closes it is because he gets another snap from Connor. He instinctively taps the notification banner, and kind of regrets it, because he feels like he could have politely watched that video like, three more times. He wonders if Connor saved it, and if there’s any way he can get a copy for himself to watch forever.

The next snap is just a picture of half of Connor’s face, captioned  _ they don’t tell you this is what happens when you make it to the show. _ Then another one comes, and it’s a video of Auston Matthews, scantily clad in something black that’s definitely women’s underwear, and it’s definitely some sort of photoshoot.

Dylan doesn’t know whose idea it was to put hockey players in lingerie, but he kind of wants to send them a thank-you card.  

Before he has a chance to actually respond to Connor, his phone buzzes to tell him that Mitch wants to FaceTime. 

He answers, and Mitch’s face fills his screen. 

“Dude,” Mitch says, “are you seeing this?” 

“What?” Dylan asks, even though he has a pretty clear idea of what Mitch is talking about.

“Auston sent me a bunch of pictures from this photoshoot–” 

“Oh, yeah, Davo sent me. What’s up with that?” Dylan says, trying to sound nonchalant.

Mitch doesn’t seem to bother with the pretense. “I don’t even fucking know, I think it’s a calendar? Either way, I’m dying, dude.” 

“What?” Dylan asks. 

“Did you not see Matts? He’s wearing a  _ garter belt _ . And  _ thigh highs. _ I’m going to explode.”

“That’s rough, man,” Dylan says, because he can relate. 

“Stop playing it cool, I can’t be the only one suffering here,” Mitch says. “Oh my god, he just sent me another one.”

“Wait, he sent it to me too,” Dylan says. “One sec.” 

He leaves the video, and presumably Mitch does too, and goes to check the snap. He’s greeted with a more complete image of Connor’s outfit for the shoot. 

It’s just the panties, and nothing else, and Dylan can’t really make out the details, but they seem pretty simple, not like Auston’s more elaborate getup. It’s his turn to be photographed, apparently, and Connor looks really, really good, but also incredibly shy; even with the shitty iPhone camera quality, Dylan can see that he’s blushing all the way down to his chest. 

It almost hurts, how much he wants that, wants Connor looking so flushed and beautiful and exposed and delicate. He sighs, loudly. 

“Buddy,” Dylan hears Mitch’s voice say, and he’s promptly reminded that Mitch can still hear him. 

“I’m not– that wasn’t–” Dylan stutters a bit as he reopens the FaceTime app. 

“Don’t worry, bud, if Davo was my type I’d be right there with you.” 

“Davo’s not my type,” Dylan says defensively, blatantly lying. 

Mitch snorts. “Davo  _ is  _ your type.” 

“Fuck off.”

“Whatever. I’m going to buy like, eight copies of this calendar,” Mitch says. 

“Honestly, same,” says Dylan. 

“Alright, I’m gonna hang up, text me your screenshots?” 

“What?” Dylan says. “I don’t have screenshots.”

“You’re a loser,” Mitch says.

“You have no idea how to be subtle,” Dylan shoots back. 

Mitch only shrugs at that. “Fair. Lucky for you I saved that last one.”

“Whatever,” Dylan says. “Bye, dickface.”

“Later, asshole,” Mitch says cheerily, then hangs up. 

A few minutes later Mitch texts him the photo, and Dylan doesn’t respond, because he doesn’t want to close it. 

He is so, so fucked. 

* * *

The thing is–

Dylan’s been in love with Connor since their first season together. They were on the bus back to Erie after a game, and it was the first time Connor had sat next to him, and at some point they’d fallen asleep. Dylan had woken up with Connor’s head on his shoulder, warm and heavy, and had just sort of blinked down at the sight and thought,  _ oh.  _

It’s a constant in his life, being in love with Connor, persisting against all odds, even when Connor moved on to Edmonton while Dylan’s been stuck in Erie for two shitty years. Somehow, Connor hasn’t managed to break his heart yet, which Dylan finds kind of annoying but mostly amazing. 

Hockey is part of it. But it’s not even that he’s so good, it’s– it’s the look on his face during a celly, or the way he would grab Dylan and smile at him, bright and huge and happy, and Dylan would think– and still thinks–  _ you should always be this happy.  _

But whatever Dylan’s feeling right now is… different. 

Like, Dylan’s always wanted Connor, and Connor is a handsome dude, and Dylan likes guys, so he’s imagined sex with Connor. He imagined closeness, intimacy, what Connor would look like and feel like. It’s kind of about sex, but it’s also because it’s Connor, and there’s been all this Connor wrapped up in those fantasies; the Connor that Dylan knows inside and out. They’d be best friends who would fall into bed together and get some RomCom happy ending. 

Right now, it’s not about that at all. 

Dylan feels guilty about it, he really does, but all he can think about is Connor in those panties. He wonders what it would be like to have Connor dressed like that alone in his room, if the lace would be soft to the touch, if Connor would blush as Dylan pulled them down. If Connor would want Dylan to tease him through them first, what it would be like to see his cock grow hard in them, straining at the fabric. He wonders what they look like up close, if Connor likes the way they feel, or if he’d beg Dylan to take them off and fuck him. 

Dylan thinks about it when he gets into the shower, feeling antsy in a way he hasn’t before; he thinks about it as he jerks off, slow and teasing, wanting to draw it out; he thinks about it when he finally comes, biting down on his lip to hold back a moan.

It’s not the first time he’s jerked off thinking about Connor, but usually, when he finishes, he’s picturing Connor’s smile, or his eyes, or something else kind of cheesy that he already loves; tonight, he thinks about Connor whimpering, begging, squirming as Dylan straddles his hips and feels the blue lace move against his inner thigh. 

* * *

Connor calls the next morning after Dylan’s eaten breakfast and before he’s made his way to the gym, and Dylan doesn’t remember until after he’s picked up that he can’t actually handle Connor right now. Still, he doesn’t really have a choice, so he takes a deep breath and says, “Davo, man, what’s up?”

“Hey,” Connor says. “Dude, did you get my snaps? Yesterday was fucking wild.”

“Yeah?” Dylan says, hoping his voice sounds normal. 

Connor doesn’t seem to notice if anything’s weird, because he sounds happy as ever on the other end, as if he hadn’t completely shattered Dylan’s entire world yesterday.

“Yeah, dude, they’re doing this whole calendar thing with hockey players in like, lingerie,” he says. “Sidney Crosby was wearing– a corset, I think it’s called?” 

“Oh my god,” Dylan says. “Who else was there?” 

“Uh, Me, Auston Matthews, Crosby, Seguin–”

“Of course Seguin,” Dylan says. 

“Haha, yeah. Oh! Drai was there, and like, dude–” Connor lowers his voice a bit. “I’m pretty sure the photographer like, fell over. He looked weirdly good.” 

Dylan’s chest tightens at the mention of Leon Draisaitl. He tries not to be jealous, because he doesn’t think Leon is into dudes, but Connor does kind of light up when he talks about him, and it makes Dylan vaguely nauseous. 

“Oh yeah?” he says, trying to not sound strained. 

“Yeah, like– it was fucking hilarious.”

“Where was this, anyway?” Dylan asks, trying to change the subject to pretty much anything but Connor’s hot teammate. 

“New York,” Connor says. “Drai and I are flying into Toronto tomorrow night, though, and, uh, you should come to dinner with us.”

“You’re coming back to Toronto?” Dylan says, perking up at the thought. 

“Yeah, for like, a few weeks.”

“A few  _ weeks? _ ” Dylan says. “Dude, you did not mention this.”

“I didn’t want to mention it in case it didn’t work out, but, yeah,” Connor says, and Dylan can hear him smiling. “Drai’s only gonna be here for a day, though. Um, are you okay with dinner?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Dylan says, still excited about Connor but the moment somewhat dampened by the mention of Draisaitl. 

Dylan’s been pining for long enough that he figures it’s okay to be petty. 

“Cool, it’ll be nice for you two to meet, I think.”

“Uh, yeah,” Dylan says. “Finally get to meet your new best friend.”

“Hey,” Connor says, his voice suddenly serious. “Don’t say that.”

Dylan’s entire body goes warm at that. “Sorry, sorry,” he says. “I know, I’m irreplaceable.” He means for it to sound joking, but it comes out sounding too fond.

Connor doesn’t seem to mind. “Yeah, you are,” he says unashamedly. “I’m excited to see you.”

“You too,” Dylan says, feeling a little lightheaded with happiness. 

“I should go. I, uh, have to pack, but I wanted to let you know.”

“No problem,” Dylan says.

He’s about to tell him to have a great flight and hang up when Connor says, “God, they had us like, keep the stuff from the shoot. Customs is gonna be so weird.”

Dylan has to sit down. 

He manages to say goodbye, somehow, then immediately texts Marns, because it’s kind of their thing, at this point. 

_ Dylan: help me  _

_ Dylan: pls lets get drunk and cry about boys tn  _

_ Mitch: always  _

* * *

Mitch, because he’s kind of the best, comes over with two six-packs of Mike’s Hard and a box of wine.

“I kind of want to chirp you for the alcohol choice, bud,” Dylan says. 

“But you won’t,” Mitch says. “If we’re here to cry about boys, we’re going to do it right.” 

“Yeah, fuck it,” Dylan says, turning and walking towards his kitchen. “Did you know Davo’s coming back to Toronto?” 

“For real? When?” Mitch asks, following.

“Tomorrow.”

“So why are we getting drunk? Shouldn’t we be, like, celebrating? Summer lovin’, dude,” Mitch says. 

“No,” Dylan says. “I’m going out to dinner with him and Draisaitl.” 

Mitch raises an eyebrow. “Wait, are they like–” 

“Davo says they aren’t,” Dylan says, cutting Mitch off before he can finish that sentence and make Dylan start picturing… whatever. “He’s straight, apparently.”

“Alright, then, hop on Davo’s dick.” 

Dylan gets two cups out of his cabinet, not bothering to scrounge for wine glasses. “Just because he has a straight friend, doesn’t mean he wants to. Besides, guys crush on straight guys, right?” 

“What,” Mitch says. “You think Davo, your BFF who you’ve wanted to bang for like, what, four years, would turn you down to chase after a straight dude?” 

Dylan shrugs. “He could just not want to. With me, I mean.”

“I guess,” Mitch says reluctantly. “Doesn’t mean it’s not worth trying.” 

Dylan looks away, turning to fill their cups with the too-sweet, too-pink wine Mitch chose. It’s a conversation they’ve had before; Mitch has been telling Dylan to make a move ever since they got drunk the night before the draft and Mitch had spent an hour listening to Dylan talk about Connor’s hair. Maybe Mitch is right, but Dylan can’t, and won’t, act on his feelings. 

“It’s also–” Dylan says, and then he pauses, because he doesn’t want to be like, gross, but he has to talk about the fact that his life has been irrevocably changed by the thought of his best friend in blue lace, even if he has to do it indirectly. “Recently, it’s been… I dunno. I got used to it, you know? Crushing or whatever. But then, like, I got… un-used to it? It’s like it was my first year in Erie. It’s literally all I can think about.” 

“Aw,” Mitch says. “That’s like, really sad.” 

“I know,” Dylan groans. “I’m a walking tragedy.” 

Mitch pats him on the shoulder, and they take their glasses away from the kitchen and settle onto Dylan’s couch. Mitch, because he’s Mitch, chooses some movie with Katherine Heigl in it for them to watch, and makes up arbitrary drinking game rules as they go along. 

It’s a good system, though, because soon enough they’re solidly drunk, the movie’s been paused for ten minutes, and Mitch has spent nine of them talking about Auston Matthews. 

“It feels like he’s flirting, you know?” Mitch says. “But I would bet, like, your life that he’s straight.” 

“My life? Rude,” Dylan says. “You can’t bet my life on heterosexuality. That’s homophobic.” 

“Your face is homophobic,” Mitch says. “But I swear to god, he’s gotta know I’d bang him if he asked, right?” 

“I dunno. Straight dudes are weird,” says Dylan. 

“He sent me–” Mitch digs his phone out of his pocket and pulls up a photo. “Look, look at this pic.” 

Dylan looks at the picture. It’s a mirror pictures, and he’s wearing the same outfit Dylan remembers from the snaps the day of the photoshoot. He does look, like, objectively hot, and there’s no doubt that he’s posing. 

“Shit,” Dylan says. “You’re not kidding when you say you’re an ass man.” 

“Like– like, who sends that to a dude, knowing that he’s attracted to dudes? How is this legal?”

“No, that’s flirting. He’s flirting, there’s no way–”

“That’s what I thought! But then I was like, why would he flirt with me without telling me he’s into guys? He knows I can’t make a move, right?” 

“Maybe he’s just– like, maybe he’s into dudes and you, like, forgot?” 

Mitch gives him a look. “I wouldn’t just forget that.” 

“I’m just saying,” Dylan says. “That’s like– honestly, sending that to you might as well be him making a move.” 

“It’s not making a move until he, like, actually makes a move,” Mitch says. 

“Whatever,” Dylan says. “Did you hear they got to keep the outfits?” 

Mitch’s expression goes through quite a few emotions before settling on dismay. “Why would you tell me that?” 

“You’re welcome,” Dylan says, shoving Mitch. “Now I don’t have to suffer alone.”

“What, did Davo tell you that?” Mitch asks. 

Dylan nods solemnly. 

“Oh my god,” Mitch says. “What will Davo even do with those?”

“No, no no. Absolutely not,” Dylan says. 

“What, don’t want to think about him–” Mitch starts with a mischievous grin.

“Oh my god,” Dylan says, and he feels his face turn bright red. 

Mitch laughs. “Jeez, you’re so fucking gone on him.” 

Dylan grumbles, but he’s drunk and he’s with Mitch, which means he’s feeling too honest to deny it. 

* * *

 

Leon Draisaitl is… not that bad, Dylan begrudgingly accepts halfway through dinner. 

He’s quieter than Dylan expected, but laughs politely at Connor’s jokes and seems to enjoy Dylan’s company enough.

Connor is smiling most of the meal, which might be part of the reason Dylan’s being particularly open-minded. He’s smiling at Dylan, too, which is always nice; Connor’s smile has always been one of Dylan’s favorite things. 

“So why aren’t you two staying in Edmonton?” Dylan asks. 

Connor shrugs. “I mean, I don’t get back to the GTA during the season enough, so I figured I might as well.”

“I’m on vacation,” Leon says. “McDavid’s a good travel buddy, but I’m going back to Germany soon enough.” 

“He literally flew in to do the calendar,” Connor says, smiling, and Leon’s face turns a bit red. 

“I’d committed to it before I knew I was going to Germany at the start of the summer,” Leon corrects. 

“Nah, you wanted to,” Connor says, a satisfied smirk on his face. 

“I volunteered because it seemed like it would be a good thing,” Leon says.

Dylan tries to not be jealous of their banter. “So, what is that calendar anyway?”

“The Players’ Association,” Connor says. “Just to sell and like, make money. I think some funds are going to charity?” 

“The lingerie was from a fan poll,” Leon adds. 

“Wow,” Dylan says. “How’d you two get caught up in it?” 

“Well, I volunteered,” Leon says. “And I persuaded him to join me.”

“You  _ made  _ me,” Connor says. 

“Listen, it’s gonna sell better with you in it,” Leon says. 

If Leon’s the reason that Connor’s in that calendar, Dylan might want to send him a gift basket.

The conversation drifts to something else, thankfully, and Dylan is fine until Connor gets up to go to the bathroom. 

“So,” Leon says, “Davo was really nervous about us getting along.”

“Uh,” Dylan says, “guess we’re both his friends, right?” 

Leon gives Dylan a look. “Yeah,” he says. “He talks about you a lot, you know.”

“I– I didn’t know that,” Dylan says. 

“All the time,” Leon says. “Look, I don’t know what your deal is, or what his deal is, but it seems like– like you two have some stuff to work out.”

“Uh–” Dylan says, a little taken aback.”I don’t–” 

“If you like him you should say something, is all I’m saying,” Leon says. 

Dylan’s head is spinning, wondering how Leon figured him out. He has so many questions he wants to ask, but unfortunately Connor comes back to the table at that exact moment. 

“What’d I miss?” he asks, sliding into his seat. 

“Not much,” says Leon.

“Yeah, just talking about how much we secretly hate you,” Dylan says. 

“Figures,” Connor says. 

Dylan still doesn’t know what to make of anything Leon’s said to him, so he spends the rest of the meal avoiding eye contact and trying to not stare at Connor. 

* * *

 

Connor was planning on going back to his parent’s place, but that seems kind of silly when Dylan’s apartment is a ten minute cab ride from the restaurant. 

Which is fine, until Dylan sees Connor’s suitcase, and is immediately struck with the thought that the blue panties are in there. 

He wonders if Connor had run into issues at Customs, and pointedly avoids thinking about Connor blushing as the agent rifles through his bag. In fact, he tries to avoid all thoughts of Connor blushing as he leads him into his apartment. 

They end up changing into sweatpants and settling onto Dylan’s couch to chill and watch TV for the rest of the night. 

“So, uh,” Connor says, “did Leon say anything weird to you?” 

Dylan panics for a second. “Uh, I mean– not really? Why?” 

“Um, so, I told him that I’m– I’m into guys,” Connor says, “and he’s been all– I dunno, he keeps trying to set me up, I guess.”

“Oh,” Dylan says. “I mean, he didn’t– you didn’t tell him about me, right?” 

“Of course not,” Connor says. “Just, uh, you’re both my friends and I want you to get along, and I don’t– I hope he didn’t make you uncomfortable, that’s all.”

“He didn’t,” Dylan says. “I mean– it’s fine.” He really, really hopes he’s not blushing. 

“Alright,” Connor says. “So, uh, did you want to watch a movie?” 

“Sure,” says Dylan. 

They put on  _ Goon,  _ because it’s an easy movie to watch, even though they’ve seen it too many times to count. About ten minutes in, Connor hesitantly moves closer to Dylan, which, Dylan knows from years as Connor’s best friend, means he wants to cuddle. Dylan opens up his arm and lays it across the back of the couch, and Connor leans into him. Dylan looks down and smiles, and sees that Connor is smiling right back at him. 

It’s good to be like this with Connor, natural at this point. It probably doesn’t help Dylan get over this any faster, but it’s been so long that Dylan doesn’t think he’s ever going to actually move past it, so he’ll take what he can get. 

Plus, Connor’s really good at cuddling. 

They stay tangled up for the rest of the movie, and at some point, Connor falls asleep. Dylan doesn’t mind at all, because sleeping Connor is incredibly cute. He’s curled up on Dylan’s chest, and Dylan looks down to see his face, because he’s kind of a masochist and doesn’t get to stare like this when Connor’s awake.

The hem of Connor’s t-shirt has ridden up a bit, and Dylan can see his hip, and a small strip of pale-blue lace peeking over the waistband of his sweatpants. 

Dylan blinks, and for half a second is convinced he’s, like, hallucinating or something. But he looks again and sure enough, Connor is wearing the panties from the photoshoot, just barely visible. 

There’s a little bow at the front, which Dylan hadn’t seen in any of the photos. 

Unthinkingly, he rubs his thumb over the waistband. Connor jerks a bit and wakes up at the touch, and Dylan is frozen with his hand on Connor’s hip. Connor blinks up at him, sleepily, then looks down at where Dylan’s hand is, and promptly turns bright red. 

“I– I can explain,” Connor says, looking embarrassed but not moving away. 

“You’re wearing them,” Dylan says, and he knows his voice probably sounds hoarse. 

Connor nods. “I am,” he says, looking down. 

Dylan can’t say anything, can’t move, all he can do is stare at the way Connor is blushing and continue to feel the lace under his finger. 

“Dyls,” Connor says, and his voice sounds a little bit breathless. 

“God,” says Dylan. He knows he’s probably bright red too. There’s this look in Connor’s eyes, like he’s terrified and excited all at once, and Dylan can’t really look away. He tugs Connor’s sweatpants a little lower, and Connor whimpers, and Dylan feels his cock twitch. 

“Are you–” Connor says, and his eyes are wide, and his eyelashes are so beautiful.

“I– I want to see them,” Dylan says, not sure where the words come from, because he’s pretty sure his mind isn’t capable of forming speech yet. 

“Oh,” Connor says. “Yeah, uh, yeah, just–” he gets up off of Dylan and stands in front of him, and, hesitantly, takes off his shirt. Dylan might gasp, but honestly, he’s lightheaded with how turned on he is, and can’t really tell. Instead, he pushes Connor’s sweatpants down the rest of the way, and–

It’s somehow more beautiful than Dylan imagined, Connor standing there in nothing but the blue panties. There’s no makeup, no photoshoot, just Connor wearing them in Dylan’s living room, and Dylan can see that he’s hard. Like, incredibly hard. 

“Fuck,” Dylan says. “Holy fuck, Davo.”

“I– are you–’

Dylan rubs Connor’s cock through the panties, and he can feel him twitch.

“Fuck,” Connor gasps. 

“Dude,” Dylan says. “I want to–”

“Anything, whatever, yeah,” Connor says. 

Dylan raises an eyebrow at him. “Anything?” 

Connor looks down at him. “Anything.” His eyes look so earnest, and Dylan’s kind of overwhelmed by it. 

“Let’s– let’s go into the bedroom, yeah?” Dylan says, and Connor nods. 

Dylan leads Connor in there, and all Connor’s wearing is the panties, still. 

“Uh,” Dylan says, closing the door behind him. “I’m– I’m gonna kiss you now.” 

“Oh,” Connor says. “Yes.” 

Dylan grabs Connor’s hand to pull him in, and Connor puts his arms over Dylan’s shoulders. Dylan rests his hands on Connor’s lower back as he leans in and kisses him. 

It’s a really, really fucking good kiss, considering it’s been ages since Dylan kissed anyone and he’s also really nervous. But Connor’s mouth is soft and relaxed and he seems so into this, and Dylan can’t help but just enjoy it without worrying. 

His hands make their way back to the panties. “Jesus,” he says into Connor’s mouth. “Do you have any fucking idea how good you look in these?” 

“I–“ Connor starts. “You like them?”

“Fuck, yes,” Dylan says. “You don’t– god, when you sent me a picture–” 

“You– you wanted–” Connor looks surprised, and his eyes are so close to Dylan’s.

“I’ve wanted– god, for so long,” he says, laughing a bit. 

“Yeah?” Connor’s smiling now too, small and shy and hopeful. 

“Did you really not know?” Dylan asks. 

“I don’t know, I just–” Connor starts, but Dylan palms his dick through the panties again, and Connor shivers. 

“We can talk later, okay? Right now I just want to–”

“Yeah,” Connor says. “Yeah.” 

“Sit down on the bed,” Dylan says, and Connor does. “I– I kind of want you to keep them on for as long as possible.”

“Alright,” Connor says, blushing harder. 

“God, you should see yourself,” Dylan says, dropping to his knees between Connor’s legs. “Do you know what you look like when you blush?” Dylan kisses Connor’s dick and sees it move underneath the lace. 

“I–” Connor says. “Can you–”

“Be patient,” Dylan says. “I’m gonna take my time, is that okay?” 

Connor nods. 

“Good,” Dylan says. “I’m gonna see how much I can turn you on before you take those off.”

Connor groans, which Dylan takes as a good sign. He works Connor’s dick through the panties, fascinated by the way it looks, straining at the lace. 

“Why did you wear these?” Dylan asks, not looking away from Connor’s crotch. He’s rubbing methodically, and he can tell it’s working for Connor. 

“I– I like them,” Connor says. “They’re soft, and, uh, I like the way they look.”

“Can’t disagree with you there,” says Dylan. 

“I– oh my god,” Connor says, as Dylan squeezes a bit tighter. “This feels so good.”

“Did you want me to see you in these?” Dylan says. 

“Well- not seriously?” Connor says. 

“But you– you still kind of wanted me to see you like this. To like it.”

“Y– yeah,” Connor says, and he’s breathless. “Shit, can you– speed it up, or something, I wanna–”

“Didn’t I tell you to be patient?” Dylan says lightly. “Let me get my mouth on you first.”

Connor makes a strangled sound, and Dylan sees that Connor is leaking precome through the panties. He thumbs at the wet spot for a bit, seeing if he can get more. 

Connor is squirming underneath him, which Dylan kind of loves. Slowly, he puts his mouth on his dick, leaving the panties on, and Connor’s hips buck up just a bit. 

“Slow down,” Dylan says. “Let me handle this, okay?” 

Connor nods. “Sorry,” he says. 

“No need to apologize,” Dylan says, giving Connor a gentle smile before he goes down on him again. 

This time, Connor doesn’t move, but there’s a vibration about him that makes Dylan thinks that he really wants to. “God,” Connor says. “You’re so–” 

Dylan hums around his dick, and Connor gasps again. “Dylan,” he says, his voice raspy. “I’m gonna–” 

“Think you can come in these?” Dylan says. 

“I– I don’t know,” Connor says. 

“Do you want to try?” 

Connor squeezes his eyes shut and nods. 

Dylan switches back to his hand, and the fabric moves tightly over Connor’s dick as Dylan jerks him off, and Connor keeps making these noises, and Dylan can tell he’s close, and god, Dylan’s so hard, and he’s still wearing most of his clothes. 

But he kind of loves this, the feeling of being protected while Connor is so exposed, of making Connor get off on his terms. 

“I’m– fuck, I’m coming,” Connor says, and Dylan can feel it, sees it through the panties. 

He can’t stop staring. 

“Fuck,” Connor says again. “Holy fuck, Stromer, just– holy fuck.”

“Davo,” Dylan says. 

“Can I– fuck, that was so good, let me–” 

Dylan is momentarily confused, until Connor pulls him down on the bed. “I want to suck you off.”

“It’ll be fast,” Dylan says. 

“Don’t care,” says Connor. “Can I?”

“Fuck, yes,” Dylan says. 

Connor yanks off Dylan’s sweatpants and boxers quickly, and Dylan’s really, really hard. He makes quick work of getting his mouth around Dylan, and– 

“Holy fuck, you’re good at this,” Dylan says. 

Connor looks up at him and smiles. “Thanks.”

The image of Connor looking up at him, his face flushed and pleased, would be a lot for Dylan normally, but Connor is still wearing the panties, and that makes the whole thing worse tenfold. 

“You’re fucking– you’re beautiful, man,” Dylan says, and if he had any semblance of shame he’d probably feel weird about that. 

Connor doesn’t respond, but he does look up and smile around Dylan’s dick, which is a sight to see, so Dylan just lies back and keeps moaning out compliments as Connor sucks his dick, and he looks so good, and feels warm and wet and tight, and Dylan thinks he could stay like this forever.

And like, by any objective measure, it’s a good blowjob, but the fact that it’s Connor– it’s his fucking best friend, and he’s wanted this for so, so long– makes it feel like the most amazing thing on the planet.

Predictably, he doesn’t last long. 

“Hey, I’m gonna–” he says, and Connor nods, and Dylan comes in his mouth. Connor swallows like a champ, of course, and Dylan can’t stop staring as Connor works him through it expertly, until he eventually pulls off.

“Wow,” Dylan says, a little dazed. 

“You liked that?” Connor says, looking satisfied. 

Dylan laughs. “Oh my god,” he says. “You’re so fucking cocky.”

“Hey, that’s not cocky,” Connor says, but he’s smiling too.

“It so fucking is. C’mon, I have to shower. You wanna?” 

Connor blinks up at him. “What?” 

“Do you want to shower with me?” Dylan asks. 

“Uh– yeah, sure,” Connor says. “We should talk about this, though.” 

“Yeah,” Dylan says. “We should. But like– we can do that in the shower, right?” 

Connor sighs, faux-put-upon. “Alright,” he says. “Don’t get distracted, though.” 

“I promise I won’t,” Dylan says. 

* * *

 

“So,” Connor says, as Dylan turns him around to lather up his back. “Uh, we just had sex.”

“Yep,” Dylan says. “It was good.”

“It– I liked it a lot. Uh. I’d like to do it again?” 

“Right now?” Dylan moves Connor’s arm to scrub at his sides. 

“Not– hey, that tickles,” he says, putting his hand over Dylan’s. “Not right now, no. Just. In the future.”

“Alright,” Dylan says. “I’d like that too.”

“That’s– ooh, that feels nice,” Connor says, as Dylan starts gently massaging Connor’s back. “So do you think– like, in a friends with benefits way, or what?” 

“I– I like you,” Dylan says. “I’m good with whatever you want.”

“What does that mean?” Connor asks, turning around. 

Dylan gets a little lost in the image of Connor all wet, the water from the shower dripping off his eyelashes. “It means what it does. I’d be cool with what you want.”

“Alright, well, what if what I want is– like, I kind of want to be exclusive?” Connor says, looking Dylan right in the eye. 

“Done,” Dylan says. “I’m in.”

Connor smiles at that. “Well, what if I wanted to take you out and buy you a nice dinner?” 

“Again, yes,” Dylan says, but he’s smiling too.

“Alright,” Connor says. “What if I wanted to date you?” 

“Dude, I told you, I’m all in,” Dylan says. “Alright?” 

“Alright,” Connor says, and leans in to kiss Dylan. 

Dylan happily accepts, and they make out for a bit, just standing underneath the spray, until Connor needs to rinse off, and Dylan gets to admire the way he looks with his head tilted back and water running through it. 

“You’re so hot,” Dylan says, and Connor blushes in response.

“You are too,” he says. “I– I’ve always kind of hoped. That you wanted this, I mean.” 

“Really?” 

“I mean– I dunno. I sort of wanted to, uh, back in the day, but then we were gonna be far apart.”

“Right,” Dylan says. “So, uh, what changed?” 

“Well– it feels worth it, I guess? Like– like if I still want to after two years, I mean, distance probably doesn’t mean much.” 

Dylan’s heart swells with fondness. “Yeah,” he says. “It probably doesn’t.” 

Connor gives him a kind of dopey smile. “Good,” he says. “Uh, also, half my team thought we were together.”

“What?” Dylan says. 

“Yeah, like– I dunno, Leon… confronted me about it?” 

“He confronted me too,” Dylan says. “What the fuck.” 

“I thought you said he didn’t,” Connor says. 

“I was trying to play it cool! But when you were in the bathroom, he told me that I should, uh, make a move?” 

“Oh my god,” Connor says. “He’s awful. Is that why you did?”

“What? No. That was, uh, because of, you know.” 

Connor furrows his brow. “What?” 

Dylan feels his face turn red. “The… uh, the blue lacy things.”

“Oh,” Connor says, blushing. “You, uh, like those?” 

“Yeah,” Dylan says. “Um, kind of a lot?” 

“That’s… good. I, uh, like wearing them.”

“Sorry I kind of destroyed yours, then,” Dylan says mischievously, and Connor blushes again, and it might be the most amazing thing Dylan’s ever seen. 

“I didn’t… exactly mind…” Connor says. 

“It was– that was really hot,” Dylan confesses. 

“Yeah,” Connor says. “Like– I dunno. I should wash them, though.”

“I loved– I loved seeing them get all wet,” Dylan says. “And you were so– I don’t know. I liked making you come.” 

Connor kind of shivers. “I liked it too.” 

“Good,” Dylan says. “So you’re gonna get me a copy of that calendar, right?” 

“Of course,” Connor says, smiling at him. 

Dylan smiles right back.

* * *

 

**Epilogue:**

“Alright, so,” Connor says. “I sent you a copy, and I’m pretty sure Leon sent you one too? Maybe a few other guys on the team.” 

“Actually?” Dylan says.

“Yeah, they, uh– they got really excited when I told them?” Connor says. 

“I guess that’s good for us, right?” 

“Yeah, I guess. Ebs wanted to know if he could tell Hallsy.”

“Sure,” Dylan says. “Is he gonna tell Mikey and Nater?” 

“Oh, probably,” Connor says. 

“Which means Mikey’s gonna tell his mom, who will tell my mom. I mean, I’m okay with that if you are,” says Dylan. “But we’re officially entering open-secret territory.”

“Yeah,” Connor says. “I mean, we’re ready, right?” 

“Yep.”

“Cool,” says Connor. “This will be good.”

“Hell yeah. Plus, everyone’s gonna be sending me that calendar, I get to have it in every room.” 

Connor laughs. “I would’ve sent you more than one, if you want. Besides, you’re gonna have to wait til November to see me.”

“Oh, no, you don’t understand, every month will just be November,” Dylan says. 

“What? No, man, the rest of them are hilarious, you gotta.”

“Fine, maybe one or two of them can change,” Dylan says. “I kind of want to see Leon’s anyway.”

“No, don’t, he looks too good, I’m gonna get jealous.” 

“Hey, remember how you literally called me and  _ told me– _ ” 

Connor groans. “Leon’s beauty is just a fact, alright? You don’t have to look at him, though.” 

“I spent long enough being jealous of him, I get this, okay?” 

“I still can’t believe you were jealous of Leon,” Connor says. “He’s straight.”

“So was Matthews, and look at him now,” Dylan says. 

“Okay, fair, but like, no, dude,” Connor says. “He wasn’t a threat.” 

“Fine, but he’s gorgeous,” says Dylan. 

“You’re better looking than he is,” Connor says sweetly. 

“Aw, that’s sweet, but you’re wrong,” Dylan says. “I appreciate you saying so, though.”

“No, hey, you’re fucking hot.” 

“Says Mr. November, eh?” 

“You know it,” Connor says. “I’m kind of freaked, though. Everyone’s going to see.”

“What? You look good.”

“I know, but– it’s one thing for you to see me like– wearing that,” Connor says. “It’s another for like, the world.”

“People are going to love it,” Dylan says. 

“Yeah?”

“Yep. Promise. You’re so pretty in them,” he says. “Who wouldn’t love you like that?” 

“Fuck,” Connor says on the other end, his voice sounding strained. “You can’t just– just  _ say shit  _ like that, man.” 

Dylan smiles. “You love it.” 

“I’m sending you some private photos later tonight. Went shopping today.” 

“Really?” Dylan asks. “What’d you buy?” 

“You’ll see later, don’t worry,” Connor says. “Maybe we should Skype?” 

“If what you bought is that lacy pink thing you sent me a link to the other day, then we definitely should.”

“It might be,” Connor says. “Here, I’ll send you a sneak preview. I gotta hang up, though. Talk to you later?” 

“Of course,” Dylan says. They say their goodbyes, and a few minutes later, Dylan has a Snapchat notification. Smiling, he opens the app. 

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, you came here for hockey boys in panties and I delivered. This was incredibly fun to write, because again, hockey boys in panties. There is a maybe-chance this becomes a series? Who knows. 
> 
> This is my first time posting PWP, so, woohoo! As far as I can tell there aren't any common triggers that aren't accounted for in the tags, but of course, let me know if there's anything you feel should be tagged for. 
> 
> Other things!  
> -Leon Draisaitl dragged Connor McDavid (metaphorically) kicking and screaming to that photoshoot, because he was determined to give the people what they want. He is really the hero of this fic  
> -Mitch and Dylan Skype each other when the calendar comes out, and they're both drinking wine for the aesthetic  
> -Auston Matthews wearing those black lace thigh-highs under ripped jeans. That is all.  
> -If you want to draw any art based on this fic (or actually any of my fics, but particularly this one), please do and please link me.  
> -If you have any thoughts/questions about the particulars of what they were wearing (or anything at all about this story) ask me in the comments I could go on about these outfits.  
> -Why does Dylan Strome have an apartment in Toronto? Because this is fanfiction and I do what I want. Same reason Connor McDavid can take a month off to visit him. Or the NHLPA puts out a lingerie calendar.  
> -This whole thing is super hand-waved but this takes place during summer 2017, roughly.  
> -I dunno I just think this boy would look really good in soft blue lace ???  
> Come ask me things about hockey boys in lingerie on [tumblr.](https://lottswrites.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of} a little bit scandalous](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11870352) by [beautiful_flyaway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautiful_flyaway/pseuds/beautiful_flyaway)




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